


These hands could hold the world (but it'll never be enough)

by Just_Juliette



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, turkish gp 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Juliette/pseuds/Just_Juliette
Summary: Charles had a bad weekend and wants Pierre to comfort him, but he's not any better." What did you want me to say? Poor Charles, he missed a podium... No, because you are acting like a baby, and not everything is about you."
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	These hands could hold the world (but it'll never be enough)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/gifts).



> Hi! Okay so I lost a bet with this girl, and got unwillingly forced to write something angsty about this ship... Okay no 😅. Thanks for this idea, sunshine! Hope you enjoy it.

Charles escaped on his own as soon as the race finished. He didn't want to stay and watch the podium that he missed. He was still furious and needed to calm down before giving any interviews and letting something that he would regret slip away.

Once in his trailer, he was taken out of his thoughts by a phone call, Pierre.

He did not need to see the screen to know it was him. Pierre would always called him to see how he was doing after having a bad race, but at that moment, he did not need anyone's comfort. He waited a few minutes, during which he continued to ignore the calls, until he was called to fulfil his obligation to the media.

Finally, everything about the race was over, and the anger left to give way to disappointment and sadness. He was packing to leave, and remembered that he hadn't spoken to his boyfriend, so he went to the motorhome where he was and entered without knocking. Pierre was sitting there with his phone, with his things already packed and probably waiting to be told when he had to go to the airport.

─Hey!

─Hey.

─I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls. I was very upset and honestly needed to be alone.

─Okay. I understand, I guess.-Answered the other one, sighing. He made room next to him so that Charles could sit.

─ I made a fool of myself today.

─Ugh, Charles…

─and don't tell me that I didn’t, because I know...

─ I'll tell you whatever the hell I want! Said, interrumpting the younger lad, who looked at him, astonished.

─Woah, Pierre…

─No. “Pierre” nothing. I'm not in the mood to listen to your whining.

─But why are you being so rude to me?!

─I'm just being honest.

─ I don't know what's wrong with you but I was hoping for at least some encouragement from my boyfriend, you know?

Pierre got up and stood in front of him, his scowl deepening and his tone of voice rising after losing his patience.

─Damn Charles! That's what you came for? What do you want me to say? "poor Charles, he missed a podium"... No. Because you're acting like a baby, and not everything is about you.

─And who said it was all about me?- Charles interrupted and stood at his height, but Pierre ignored him and continued.

─...So get over it, go home and focus on the next race, for which at least you know you've got a car that's evolving by leaps and bounds, not one that's falling apart race after race. Goodbye.

Pierre opened the door, but Charles didn't move, so after a few seconds he let out a grunt of frustration and closed it, sitting down again.

─I didn't come here to fight Pierre. Please tell me what is going on. I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong.-The Frenchman sighed.

─ I didn't want to shout at you, but it really makes me angry that you feel the world is falling down around you just because you lost a position in the last lap, when the other fifty-seven laps of your race were impressive, and you were almost the driver of the day.

─Pierre I...

─Hold on, let me finish... and I'm angry above all because, my race was a disaster, with unfair penalties, an engine that doesn't work and doing those stupid spins like if I were an idiot. I was feeling so down, and all I wanted was to talk to you, and you didn't even bothered to answer my call.

At that moment Charles felt like an idiot, a selfish prick. He had been throwing silly tantrums when his problems were nothing compared to those of his boyfriend.

  
─ Forgive me, please forgive me love.-He said, embracing his man, Pierre reciprocated.

  
─You are right about everything, I am so stupid.

  
─No you're not, you're wonderful.-Said Pierre as he parted and caressed his cheek ─Just a little bit weepy.

  
Charles laughed and received the other's lips, initiating a delicate kiss.

  
─So… Will you still love me even If I’m a prick?

─ M-hmm. Never doubt it. -He answered, taking his hand to help him get up.

─ You must never doubt it either. Nor about me, nor about your talent. There will always be times when the car doesn't work, but those things are beyond your capacity. You've had a wonderful season, don't let one or two bad races get to you, okay love?

  
Pierre nodded with a smile, and Charles did the same, relieved that he was no longer in bad terms with his man.

  
─I'm not over with packing, you know?- admitted the younger lad. The Frenchman giggled.

─Shall I help you, baby?

─Please.

  
And so the two boys left the place, still holding hands, and with their bad mood scattering by the mere fact of being together again.


End file.
